by Chris Hechtl
The fourth compartment was a mixed blessing. It was long and narrow but had a low ceiling. Good for some things but a bit confining for a lot of the crew. It was also ill lit; so not many wanted to be in it for long.
VR helped the crew with their claustrophobia issues during the long journey. Being confined in a ship did funny things to not only the mind but body. Daily exercise was mandated as was some unusual directives.
Spacers knew that being trapped in a confined space for a long time did negative things to their eyes. Staring at long corridors to help adjust and exercise their vision was not helpful to their mindset however. For some seeing the long, seemingly never ending corridors with pipes going everywhere pressed in on a few people. A couple of people had to handle issues with nightmares of living inside the guts of a great beast.
Spending time in compartments with high ceilings and large areas was good for morale. Which was why such places were usually crowded. The rec area was one such compartment. The crew needed places and things to do to blow off steam, unwind and feel good about things. To do something other than work, eat, and sleep.
Doctor McDaniel set up a reading club. Anita and Wally set up a movie club. Both were popular for a time but became stale over time. It was also difficult to get the various people together when their shifts varied. Personality conflicts were also an issue though most tried to behave while they socialized. They knew from the XO's warning that if things got heated he'd shut their social gatherings down. So the tension simmered at a low boil.
Finally the COB hit on an idea. She got the dubious blessing of the XO and then organized a picnic in storage bay two. First they had to move all the stored gear out; there was a lot of grumbling over that task since it was all heavy lifting.
Most of that the COB left to the boys to handle. She stuck Mat on as straw boss. When a few guys grumbled too much, she got their spirits up with an occasional encouraging smile or tease about muscles.
Mat wasn't sure what he was doing so the first gear got stuck in the corridors around the compartment as well as other areas with a little extra space. A few crew members complained over tripping over the crates and boxes. When they were finished they were sweaty, sore, and confused by what they had accomplished. But they did enjoy the large cavernous space. It had an echo to it that a lot of people hadn't heard in a while.
Chief Heart shooed them out after a little while, then when they were gone dragged Isley and other “volunteers” who had just gotten off shift to help. They worked for hours setting up her little slice of heaven for the crew. At first the girls grumbled about the task, but then they started to get into it and giggled at the expected reaction.
The next morning there was a line of people waiting to go inside. The COB made certain they were all off duty personnel before she ushered them in with a smile.
When the first people went in, they stopped abruptly, stunned by the change. The gray walls were mostly gone. Inside they found a series of projections covering the walls as well as the ceiling. The crew of volunteers had done their best to simulate a beach. They'd made palm trees to suspend hammocks between them out of struts, then gone on from there. Fans had been set up to simulate a breeze, lighting like Earth on a summer day from above complete with a projection of a blue sky on the ceiling. The only thing missing was the actual sand on the deck.
Each couple was handed picnic lunches. They could only take a dozen people in at a time to keep the space from becoming too confining. Some understood, others grumbled but then realized that the normal rec areas would be bare of people so they went to enjoy it while they could.
Cookie and the galley “slaves” had set up shop in the bay. They couldn't barbeque like the head chef had desired, but they did their best to simulate other things. Miss Parker and Cosmos unleashed their beer creation on each group. For some it was a hit; anything alcoholic was welcome after such a dry cruise. Even Cosmos's still was tapped. Miss Parker refused to divulge what was in the beer, but it was still a hit for the crowd.
Everyone relaxed, smiled, and enjoyed themselves. A gentle reminder to a few who had to go on shift got them out to clear the deck for others. The beach became the talk of the ship, sparking smiles and lightened spirits with the crew.
In the evening a volleyball game and other games were played, with crews watching on the ship's video screens if they couldn't attend. They tried to play soccer, but the tight compartment wasn't large enough. The game devolved into dodge ball.
The next morning they had to put everything back the next day. The grumbling was slightly less because the COB got them going about talking about doing it again sometime the following month, if they behaved. She even got them going about what theme it should be.
-*-*-^-*-*-
Icarus went to the vicinity of two of the nearby large stars but both of them lacked a hyperbridge. “A bridge to nowhere,” the skipper was heard to mutter. They continued on to HD 6233, a B class star that fortunately was found to have a bridge. Wally reported it was headed in their general direction but not straight in. “We'll take it anyway,” the skipper ordered, feeling immense relief.
The HD 6333 bridge turned out to be a bust. They were side tracked to HD 46573, an O class well out outside their way. They crossed ten light years to HD 46711, a B class which brought them back on course to HD 47129 and then beyond. They lost nearly a year in transit time going out and then doubling back.
That mistake did give them one small caveat, additional information for the computer to work on. Taz came up with a model of stars he predicted had bridges. Those that were O class were assured to have a bridge, though they wouldn't know if it was an end anchor or starting point until it was explored personally. A few of the B class stars were end points; a few were “bridge struts” that seemed to help a longer bridge along.
Extending his modeling technique and refining the math Doctor Kershall had created allowed them to predict where a bridge might be. Adding in the stellar cartography and including locations of large star clusters allowed them to predict more of the bridge network. That gave them a slight bump in confidence.
When they passed HD 48434 right on the one thousand parsec mark, the XO held a ship-wide celebration. He got particularly smashed and ended up hooking up with Isley though he swore later he hadn't remembered the incident. She refused to discuss the encounter. He did seem a bit more relaxed afterward however.
The bridge continued on, passing the stars HD 47839 and HD 43112 Before ending at Zeta Puppis just over the 335 parsec mark to Sol. It was perfectly located near the Gum nebula, their original destination 1,093 light years from Sol.
Zeta Puppis was another junction star; they found a second hyperbridge further out that led inward to the vicinity of HD 44402, a B class star along the Sirius Bridge to B-92c.
“We're actually where we should be. Finally,” the skipper said with a mock sigh. “Or no, wait, this is outside the nebula right?” the captain asked, looking at Wally. Wally nodded. “Ah. So, not quite.”
“Off by a hundred light years, skipper. The Gum nebula is that away,” the navigator said, pointing to his right. The skipper snorted.
“Should we go check it out?” the XO asked, dead pan as he crossed his arms. The captain turned to look at him. He shrugged. “Well, it is our mission,” the XO said.
“No,” the captain said. He heard Anita exhale in relief. He snorted as the XO smiled slightly. “Let's see what this area brings,” he said, settling himself. “You are relieved number one,” he said to Magnus. “Get some rest.”
“Aye aye, sir, I stand relieved,” the XO said formally, then stepped off the bridge.
-*-*-^-*-*-
At HD 44402, it was obvious the bridge continued on to HD 25204 and possibly beyond, which was off the beaten track. They dropped out of the bridge to make repairs to the reactors and rethink their position. The constant wear of neutrons was a serious problem. They not only needed to clean or rebuild the reactors, they also had to find a supply of
helium-3 to stop it from happening in the future. Reactor efficiency with just the Deuterium mix was half of what it should be, which was another problem.
Fortunately they found a ready supply of water ice to supply additional fuel. There wasn't much helium-3, but a little was better than none at all the captain judged.
Their second problem was one of destination. HD 44402 was 160 parsecs out from sol, roughly 521 light years. But if they continued on the bridge, they were going to end up headed in the wrong direction, dancing around Sol instead of headed in.
He thought about the problem for some time as the crew made what repairs they could while waiting for the tugs to bring in more iceballs for processing. If they followed the bridge, they might find another that led them closer to Sol in a different direction. But they might not as well.
Traveling back the “old fashioned way” was out. He was pretty sure the ship wouldn't be able to handle the journey. That would take them … he pulled up a window and ran the spreadsheet. “Sixteen fracken years. No way, no how,” he muttered to himself. Not including stops … he shook his head. Definitely not. There had to be another option. He rubbed at his face with his hands, trying to find an answer.
He frowned thoughtfully, studying the stellar map of the Gould belt in his office. He plucked at his lip, worrying over the situation. The nearest star capable of supporting a bridge was HD 52089AB, a B class star, which meant it was either an end point or a strut. It was twenty parsecs away, and oh, in the wrong direction he thought, rubbing his brow as he closed his eyes and hung his head.
“This is why they pay me the big bucks. For decisions like this,” he muttered, realizing he was still talking to himself. Not a good sign, he thought, smiling slightly in amusement at himself. He realized he needed to bounce the problem off the staff. At least Magnus he thought.
“Sir. I think you should come to the bridge,” Wally said carefully over the intercom.
The captain looked up in annoyance before a finger stabbed down on the reply button. “Reason?” he demanded. He hoped and prayed it wasn't something serious. If the reactor was shot, they'd be limping along, locked out of the bridge network for sure.
“We're receiving a signal, sir,” Wally replied carefully. “It's from Daedalus,” he said with a dark hint in his tone of voice.
Captain Peck's eyes widened in surprise at such unexpected news. “I'll be right there,” the captain said, exploding to his feet. He adjusted the hem of his worn jacket as he headed for the hatch.
-*-*-^-*-*-
“Why didn't we know about this sooner?” the XO demanded.
“We weren't listening, sir. Not until we started exterior ops, and even then we were focused on our frequencies,” the navigator replied. He was a bit annoyed at himself. He'd called the XO first instead of the skipper. The XO grunted. “Mister Jones happened to have accidentally played with the frequencies out of boredom. That's how he stumbled into it. Or so he says,” he finished.
“However he did it, it's done. The question is, what do we do about it?” the XO asked as the captain came on the bridge. “Captain on the bridge,” he intoned, turning sharply to the skipper.
Captain Peck strode immediately to his chair. “I have the con. I need information people,” the captain ordered. He glanced at Wally then the XO.
Magnus spread his hands. “I just got here too, skipper.”
“Then fill us both in,” the captain ordered.
“We came in most of the way through the message captain. Distress call. It's … it's not good,” Wally reported. He nodded to Jones. The tech hit the play back button. They sat and listened with growing distress as Captain Locke laid out his crew's situation. It was apparent that the broadcast was omnidirectional, but the ship's telemetry feed was being sent via a communication's laser to Sol.
“Oh my god,” Brock breathed out quietly when it got to the part about Doctor Castill drugging the crew and then venting the ship. “It's like some sick horror show,” he said, closing his eyes.
“Steady,” the captain said softly.
“We're listening to ghosts,” Wally said, equally soft.
“Turn it off,” the XO growled, voice rough with suppressed emotion. Mister Jones hit the mute button.
“There is video to go with it but the quality is messed up. I thought the audio would be better,” the communication's tech reported.
The captain cleared his throat then nodded as he regained his composure. What he had just heard distressed him. It distressed everyone. It was a crew's nightmare, to be lost in the void. “That's fine,” the captain said clearing his throat. “Does the ship's crew know?”
“A few may, sir. They were going off duty just after it came in,” Jones reported.
“Then I can imagine it's all over the ship,” the Captain said just as the COB paged him. “And here we go, yes, Chief Heart?” He asked, looking up.
“Skipper, there is an odd rumor going around about a transmission picked up a while ago …”
“I know about it. I was expecting your call, Chief. I'll put out a ship net broadcast in a moment,” the captain said. “If you'd like to come to the bridge and hear it …”
“Aye aye, sir. I'll alert the senior officers,” the COB answered, cutting the link.
“Sensors, calculate the distance of that transmission based on the time stamp from the transmission and our location as well as the time of reception.”
“Aye, sir. I see what you are getting at. You want to get a fix on the ship's range from Icarus. I believe you'll also want the heading of the incoming transmission to get a fix on its source?” Brock asked. He nodded to himself. “Working with Mister Jones, sir,” he said.
“It's still a big void, sir,” the XO said quietly in an aside to the captain just as the other senior officers and COB arrived on the bridge. “We'll need a secondary fix to lock down the derelict ship's location,” he warned.
“We also don't have the resources to chase down a ghost ship,” the captain agreed. But let's play this out,” he said, rising to his feet. He indicated the others should follow him to the wardroom. “You have the con, Miss Click'ck'a,” he said. If anyone was ready to protest handing the bridge watch to a dolphin, they weren't stupid enough to do so out loud. The captain hadn't passed command to the fins often, but he had made it clear that the senior fin was to be considered an officer with all the rights, privileges, and duties that entailed.
“Is it what I think it is? What everyone's talking about?” Chief Roak demanded as they took their seats.
“I see the grapevine is its usual speedy self,” the XO said dryly.
“Faster than this ship is,” Wally said with a shrug.
“Yes, for your information it is the Daedalus. I will spare you listening to the last transmission. If you feel masochistic enough, I'll have Nike post a link to it on the ship's network,” the Captain said. “The question is, what do we do about it?” he asked heavily.
“I … captain, just a scotch more information?” The COB asked.
The XO snorted. “It's the swan song, final distress call of our sister ship. The crew committed suicide shortly after making it,” he explained curtly.
More than one face winced when he said that.
“That is … horrifying,” the medical doctor said slowly.
“Doctor Castill whipped up some sort of anesthetic to put the crew to sleep. From what she and Captain Locke said, it was painless,” Wally said. “At least I am assuming so,” he said, fighting the urge to babble.
“So, it is too late to save them. Years too late,” Doctor McReese said quietly.
“Damn,” Doctor McDaniel said. She closed her eyes when the others looked to her. Her nostrils dilated a few times then she shook her head. “I knew Kathy. Hell, all the fins too. I don't envy her decision.”
“Are we going to ride to their rescue?” Chief Roak asked carefully. She stared at the captain.
“Didn't you hear me?” Doctor McReese demanded, voice rising.
The chief shot her a quelling look then went back to looking expectantly at her captain.
“No,” he said roughly. “I want to, but the answer is no.” He saw a few of the officers around the table deflate in apparent relief. “We'll get a fix,” he shot a look at Wally then Brock. “As best we can. We'll come back for them. Us or someone else. Our first duty is to get home however.”
“Aye aye, sir,” the chief replied. Chief Heart nodded.
The captain ordered a further halt at their location to listen in and record the transmission. They stayed long enough to record her last transmissions until the transmission looped several times. That told them there was no new information to get.
Based on its heading, transmission time, and speed they got a partial fix on her bearing and location. It was not enough for a proper fix though, but Daedalus had included a bearing to Sol from her location, which would help a great deal in finding her. With a bit of number crunching they could find her. Instead the captain reluctantly ordered the ship prepped for the jump for home.
Good news came in just after the last transmission was recorded. The captain had disseminated the recording; it had hit the morale of the crew like a hammer. Any good news therefore was much needed.
An automated tug guided by Anita had found a major pocket of helium and helium-3 frozen in an ice rock 2 AU further down arm of the ship. It was enough to fuel the ship for a long jump. “The girl has a nose,” Wally said, hugging her. She smiled politely and darted a kiss to his cheek when she thought no one was looking. He grinned, hugging her again.
-*-*-^-*-*-
The jump to HD 52089AB was sixty-five light years and would take two long years to complete. The transit was wearing on the crew but also worrying, no one knew what they would find there. If it turned out to be a bust, they could be screwed. The Captain addressed them with a simple statement. “Sometimes you have to back up to go forward.”
